


Glasses

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And nobody likes Newt and Anathema fics, F/M, New A/C fic soon don't worry, idk - Freeform, this is so short omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8623495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Anathema? Have you seen my glasses?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> So much for more frequent uploads. These past weeks have been absolutely hectic.  
> Anyway, I'm back, so here's a crappy fic (more like a sentence) that I quickly whipped up. Hopefully you like it anyway.

“Anathema? Have you seen my glasses?” Newt called across the house, rather quietly because he hated yelling. The sound reverberated from the wooden boards of the house, projecting his uncertain tone and making him wince at his slight voice crack. On the other side of the house, Anathema crouched further into her hiding place, pressing herself into the back of the couch and stifling her giggles.

Newt blinked uncertainly at his extremely unclear surroundings, squinting at the blurry shapes.

“Anathema?” he attempted again. No response.

Muttering something about ‘bloody witches’, he stumbled out of the bedroom, tripping over an untied lace. He thought he heard a giggle from behind the couch.

“I’m basically blind without them!” he tried desperately. “I’ll break all of your stuff!”

Proving his point, he swung his arm against a lampshade, knocking it to the floor. It emitted an ominous shattering sound, and Newt winced.

“Oh dear,” he sighed. Trying to find his way again, he crashed into the couch.  It groaned, as if it were annoyed at Newt. Suppressing a curse, he held up his hands in surrender.

“I give up,” he declared. _This was even worse than that Nerf gun fight they’d had,_ he thought. “You win.”

Anathema popped up directly in front of him, cackling like a maniac. She sounded like a witch, one flying away on a broomstick into the light of the moon.

“You should have seen your face!” she exclaimed, pointing a finger at an unimpressed Newt and chortling.

“Well, I would, but I still don’t have my glasses,” he stated dryly, aiming at what he hoped was her face.

“Oh.” Anathema suddenly looked guilty. “About that...”

Newt stared expectantly at her, not even having to look at her to know that she had done something stupid.

“I _may_ have accidentally actually lost your glasses.”


End file.
